He was watching by the open window all the wild birds of the town, while guiltily they're making nests on the gutters of his life, pretending thatthey never leave from the drunkenness of his brain; and the adult would beholding him with an angry gaze of pity, and a child down there was crying for a death he never wanted. He screamed alone inside, finding there the blame of all: "Who wants to change? Who makes me change? Who screams like me this night?" The obsession of pain, the nightmare of time, the fear corrodes his mind. The search for love, the trial to joy, the phantom of boredomentangles the room; and the hypocrisy of learning, and the vanity of science, and the window calling him, the fliers screaming, the murdered children, and a scapegoat sex, and explosions of voices and then... Again emptiness in a loneing tear healing his face, a bloody hope: again. And new thoughts that will never born: he is sighing, smiling, laughing. "Finally Isee another window beside me: the same, opened!"